Page 7 of Scapegoat

“We had lunch at the milk bar and then went to the movies,” Xavier replied, moving over to the kitchen sink and washing his hands.

“Just like that, huh?” Jenny eyed the lot of us. “You have enough money? Tell me you didn’t go sneaking into the movies again.”

“OK, I won’t tell you we snuck into the movies again,” Jayden replied, going to the fridge and pulling out a jug of water, his smirk making his mother hiss.

“I’ll put some more money in your account,” she said, pulling out her phone. “Though I’ll be glad when you start earning your own.”

“Who’s earning what?” Jackson was one of Jenny’s mates and he walked into the kitchen with an aluminium tray complete with a delicious smelling roast that was still crackling. “Oh, hey Kaia. Joining us for dinner?”

I opened my mouth to reply, but Jenny got there first.

“Of course she is.” She straightened up and then put a hand on my shoulder. “Everyone needs to clean up for dinner. Kaia can use my bathroom.”

Jenny had clearly defined spaces in the house that belonged to her and her alone, and this bathroom was one of them. She flicked on the light and the spacious bathroom came to life, the scent of lemon peel and lavender strong in the air.

“Have my boys been looking after you?” she asked, a reflected presence over my shoulder as I ran the taps, then lathered my hands with the handmade soap she always bought from one of the local craftspeople. I could never smell lavender or lemon without thinking of Jenny.

“Yes, of course. They always make sure I’m OK,” I replied, then rinsed my hands off, inspecting my short nails and long fingers, making sure there was no dirt left on them.

“Good. Good.” She handed me a small towel when I straightened up and, as I dried my hands, she stood there, an eyebrow raised, staring at my reflection in the mirror. “You know, you’d be quite pretty if you pulled your hair back.”

She did just that, with the strange kind of familiarity older women had in Stanthorpe. Growing up here in the pack, it sometimes felt like you were as much the child of these ladies as your own parents’, even though you didn’t know them as well. So, when she grabbed a gentle handful of my hair and pulled it up into a loose ponytail, I just stood there and let her.

“See.” We both stared into the mirror. “With all that hair out of the way, we can see your pretty face.”

I didn’t see it. I couldn’t, not with the way I’d grown up. According to Mum, my hair was thick and coarse and dark. It was like Mum’s. Not like Anna’s. Mum used to brush Anna’s over and over until those golden locks shone, tossing the brush to me afterwards to ‘do something about that mop of hair’. Anna would stare at me, seeing all the ways we were different, her bright blue eyes narrowing slightly before Mum would call her away to do something fun.

“You don’t believe me.” I saw a small crease form between Jenny’s perfectly plucked brows, all of her golden perfection seeming to be slightly marred by that small expression. But she softened it quickly with a smile, stepping back slightly. “Is that the poison she fills your head with?” I didn’t dare reply, feeling a strange kind of misplaced loyalty for my mother which manifested as a reluctance to admit what happened at home. “That you aren’t pretty?”

Jenny’s voice was all gentle warmth, but her hand on my shoulder was an insistent pressure, demanding an answer.

“Anna is—” I started to reply, the standard response starting to trip off my lips. But Jenny shook her head sharply.

“Anna is Anna.” Jenny smiled. “She has her strengths and weaknesses, just like anyone else, but…” She gave my shoulder a squeeze. “But I know who I’d rather have as my daughter-in-law.”

Her words were so sudden, so unexpected, that all I could do was stand there, staring dumbly. Jenny took this attention as her due, shaking her head.

“Didn’t expect me to say that, huh? I know what your mother thinks, but, Kaia…” I stood there, just staring, not able to do anything else. “Just because your mother doesn’t see your worth, doesn’t mean I don’t. And my boys definitely see it.” She moved her hand from my shoulder then and the distance between us felt like it broke the spell. “C’mon, you must be starving.” She steered me out of the room. “A meal you don’t have to cook for once? That’s gotta be nice, right?”

I agreed in a strange little croak, the sound terrible, but thankfully she ignored my lack of an actual response as we returned to the table.

Things were different in the boys’ homes, in most of the homes in Stanthorpe. The men all stood around the table, the food now sitting there, ready to be eaten. But they didn’t sit, not until one of the dads pulled out a chair for Jenny to take her place at the head, Atlas doing the same for me. Jay had moved to do it, glaring at his brother when he got there before him. When we sat down, this felt… special. Probably because Jenny turned to me.

“Our guest is served first.”

The dads all smiled at me, a snapshot of what the guys would look like when they got older. Each man was just like their sons, their hair various shades of gold, their eyes bright blue. But they were bigger, heavier built, with the muscle of adults and they watched everything that went on, then nodded to their sons.

“Bread rolls,” Xavier announced and I shot a sidelong look at him, hearing the tiniest quaver in his voice. “You like bread rolls, right?”

“Of course she does, numbnuts,” Jayden replied.

“Jay…” Jackson growled, then shot his son a long look. Jayden nodded and then picked up the dish of carrots.

“These have been cooked in butter and honey and they’re so fucking nice,” Jay told me.

“Jesus, Jay…” Greg, the boys’ other dad, just rubbed his face then.

“Mum makes them when we have special guests,” Jay told me, his hand frozen mid-air, holding the container up for me to inspect. “Did you want to try them?”

---